


Antivan Leather

by Sanguinifex (Eros_Scribens)



Series: The Blighted Blight + Two Poorly Adjusted Elves [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Antivan Leather, Bloodplay mention, Coming Untouched, Crow Training mention, Dirty Talk, Dominant Surana, Elf Ears, Facials, Gags, Game with all DLCs, In this particular fic bc they switch a lot, Leather Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Painplay, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Post-Orzammar, Rope Bondage, Self-harm for the purpose of blood magic or vice versa mention, Teasing, These elves have some fucking issues, Zevran Arainai/Taliesen/Rinna mention, Zevran POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eros_Scribens/pseuds/Sanguinifex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran has a thing for Antivan leather.  Surana can work with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antivan Leather

Denerim had been something of a shopper’s free-for-all, and on the road back to Soldier’s Peak that night, Zevran was busy putting all his new or replenished poison ingredients (mostly harmless, unless concentrated) into little pouches, when Alim Surana ducked into their tent, looking much too satisfied with himself.

“So I was just over at Bodahn’s cart to fix the belt buckle on those vintage robes I bought, and look what he found while the rest of us were poking around Wonders of Thedas!”

It took Zevran more than a whole second to process what exactly the other elf was waving in his face, and when he did identify it, it was by smell. “Antivan leather?”

“You mentioned once that you liked it. Bodahn was going to make shoes or something, but I told him I had a use for it. He let me have part of it, anyway.”

Well, there was really only one possible interpretation now. “I would be all for scandalizing Bodahn, but he already overprices his reagents. Really, when I can pay less in the Denerim black market without even haggling—“

“I told him it was for magic. He may have even believed me.”

“Well, in that case.” Zevran scrutinized the piece of leather. It was a bit small for a flogger, but it would work, and anyhow Alim could hardly be blamed for it; he wasn’t a trained torturer, and the Circle couldn’t have had the privacy for…complexities like this. “So, you intend to do with that, to me, what precisely?” (Zevran never could quite get the sentence structure for complex questions right; no civilized language should have dative phrases go at the end.)

“Oh, you’ll see. Something completely nefarious. Um, where’d you put the nice rope?”

Interesting. “I believe it is in your pack, mi querido,” said Zevran, putting the rest of the fire crystals and corrupter agents away.

“How about you kneel, ankles together and sitting, wrists tied to ankles with some slack between, square knots? That okay?” asked Surana.

“Functional and fairly simple. It is appealing.”

They had spent an almost unjustified number of silvers on that rope, some weeks back. It was undyed silk, luxuriously smooth (not that Zevran himself minded rough rope, not at all, but he couldn’t bear to think of rope burns on Surana), and handling it felt like a light breeze made into threads made into a stream of cool water pouring over one’s hands. It was also extremely obvious to anyone who had ever read a bad translation of a Nevarran romance what a cord of such material in the diameter of a man’s finger was for (if one’s occupation was not creating royal draperies, and it had been quite obvious from all the weaponry that the two elves were not craftsmen); and so at the time, Zevran had been the one to ask the traveling salesman about tensile strength, washability, and the rope’s self-friction, with a few bawdy jokes thrown in, because how could he not, while Alim had valiantly failed to look like he didn’t want to sink into the ground. But by now, the younger elf seemed to have gotten over any reservations about sexy sex ropes.

“So,” said Alim, finishing the last knot and trailing his fingers down Zevran’s chest (“He’s in a teasing mood tonight,” observed Zevran), “I think this lovely piece of Antivan leather should go in your mouth.” Trained though he was in controlling his reactions, Zevran could not disguise the shiver of pleasure that ran through him at these words, or the way his cock filled a bit more; nor did he want to. Nor, in fact, did it take a trained spy and assassin to notice the effect. “Yes, it definitely should. All that taste and smell of Antivan leather, driving you mad. Now, since your mouth will be full, if you need me to stop, tap out—wait, shit, I tied your arms. Fuck.”

“I could get out of these ropes in”—he wiggled experimentally—“seven seconds, since you finished with a half-bow knot, twenty-three if you had not, and that is plenty of time unless you are planning to do anything that draws blood, no?” Probably not the best time to point out that he could kill someone in three different ways with the slack he’d been given between wrists and ankles, he realized just in time to not say it, even if Surana was a blood mage with a death wish. “Believe me, if I am displeased, I will let you know. Or do you want me to beg for that Antivan leather, for you to put it in my mouth?”

He observed (he always observed) Surana swallow hard. “Begging won’t be necessary, since I want to see this leather in your mouth as much as you do. But, if you’re sure—I suppose I can just check in every few minutes and you can nod or shake your head.” He paused. “Wait, drawing blood—you’re into that.”

            “Crow training—creative uses for knives are among the side effects. But not tonight. The last person I did that with, it ended…I believe the term is ‘a bad breakup.’”

“I see.” (“No, not the half of it,” thought Zevran.) Surana considered for a second. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to distract you from that. If you’re still good?”

“I await your command.”

Laughing, Surana folded the leather and placed it in Zevran’s waiting mouth. At first it didn’t taste like much—smooth (pigskin?) and faintly salty. And then the smell hit him, at about the same time as Surana tweaked his right nipple, and between the two he couldn’t help but moan around the now-sodden leather, shutting his eyes to intensify the sensation. Next time he’d have to ask for a blindfold. And Surana’s hands were all over him, barely touching him, definitely not touching his cock, and his fingers felt like fire, or no, woolen cloth in winter (and he hadn’t even started to play with magic yet), and it was already too much and he needed more, and what was it about this scrawny pale too-scarred mage that made him lose control of his reactions like this? And then Surana moved behind him and started talking, with his lips almost brushing his ear, and that simply wasn’t fair.

“Look at you, all patient and waiting for me, with that leather in your mouth. Yes, keep your eyes closed, like that. How does that leather feel? Are you sucking it like you would my dick? Maybe I should buy the rest of that leather from Bodahn, have it made into a dildo, so that you have an actual Antivan leather dick to suck on, and I could fuck your mouth with it, maybe while I fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Show me. Yes, that’s it. Or maybe two dildos, so I could plug you up with Antivan leather at both ends, leave you waiting and wanting as long as I liked.”

Surana moved his right hand down, brushing his nipple again and then trailing down to his hip joint—but still not quite touching his cock—and Zevran let out a strangled squeak and bucked forward into the air, straining at his bindings, with Surana’s hand already gone. If Zevran had not been a fully trained Crow, he would have started crying from frustration. As it was, when Surana started talking again and tracing his lips around the leather, it took all his strength of will not to simply untie himself and grab his neglected cock.

“You’re so hard for me, just from this, without me even touching your cock. It’s dripping all over the floor, making a huge mess. Maybe I’ll make you lick it up, after you suck me off.” Zevran’s cock twitched at the thought, he was that far gone. “I bet you could come, just from this, just from me teasing you. Without the slightest touch to your cock or your hole, like a boy the first time he sees a dirty picture.”

Well, actually, he probably could. Crow training, at least for those with Zevran’s specializations, meant learning to come or hold back at will, given a certain range of arousal anyway. And in this position, if he tensed his thighs, and if Alim would keep playing with his nipples, or his lips, or his ears, or honestly really anywhere, he could come like this, in about thirty seconds, and increasingly he wanted to. Really, was past wanting to. The mental image of a teenaged Surana reading smutty novels in some corner of the Circle Tower certainly wasn’t hindering things any, either.

And then Surana started sucking on one of his ears and fingering the other one. One of the best things about sleeping with other elves, Zevran had decided long ago, was that they tended not to have any hangups or obsessions with elf ears, the way humans did, and instead usually just knew how to make elf ears feel really good. Surana didn’t have as much experience with elf ears in general—Kinloch Hold and its lack of privacy again—but he did have a few months of experience with Zevran’s ears, and it showed. He knew just when to stick his tongue in Zevran’s ear, and just when to use teeth, and just when to stop the teeth before it became the bad kind of pain, and he’d also started using minor ice spells on Zevran’s nipples and it hurt and it was good, and Zevran wanted to scream or cry or _something_ but his mouth was full of damp slick leather, so instead he sucked on it harder, filling his mouth with even more of the taste of Antivan leather. And then Zevran couldn’t stand it any longer, and he hardly even had to try before he was coming, all over himself and the floor of the tent.

Surana was holding him up and taking the leather out of his mouth; Zevran didn’t want it to go, but Surana telling him he’d be a good boy if he opened his mouth, and he could open his eyes now, and he couldn’t exactly argue with that logic.

“So, can you tell me your safeword?”

“Loghain,” replied Zevran. The name had seemed an appropriate word when they’d chosen it weeks ago, but now it just got funnier every time he actually thought about it.

“Do you want to stop now, or keep going?”

“I want to suck your cock.” He also wanted the Antivan leather back in his mouth, but that was probably incompatible.

Surana’s breath hitched at his words. “You want the ropes off first, or?”

“Later.”

Surana had worked himself into nearly as much of a state as he had Zevran, and he gasped, almost crying out, when Zevran immediately took him to the hilt. He tightened one hand in Zevran’s hair until it hurt (and it was perfect, like that), and bit the other to stop the sound—the whole camp might hear, otherwise, and while they’d probably already guessed what the two elves were doing, there was such a thing as common courtesy.

Zevran felt as if he could do this all night, but without his hands to support or aid him, it was probably a good thing that Alim was so close. He swirled his tongue around the head, poked the tip into the slit, and then tried to tease under the foreskin, and after barely two minutes of this Alim pulled off and asked him where he should come.

“Start in my mouth, and then finish on my face,” suggested Zevran, because he really couldn’t decide which. And then Surana really started fucking Zevran’s mouth in earnest, and then came hard, almost bruising Zevran’s throat with his final thrust, but managing to pull out in time to stripe Zevran’s face. Some of it missed, but there was already cum on the floor anyway.

There were a few seconds, as Surana recovered, and then he tried to untie Zevran (Zevran beat him to it, as soon as he realized Surana wanted him untied anyway), and then he moistened a rag from the waterskin (“Sorry it’s cold”), and cleaned Zevran and the tent up.

“So, uh, the things I said,” began Surana. “Back when I was an apprentice, I read a lot of terrible romance novels. Really terrible romance novels.”

“I do not look like I need apologizing to, no?” mumbled Zevran, pulling Surana closer.

*                 *                * 

The next morning, breakfast preparations were interrupted by a horrified Alistair, who had simply wanted to awaken his fellow Warden.

“There are darkspawn attacking us? Loghain’s soldiers?” asked Leliana.

“There is a pile of naked elves. One of them hissed at me. The other one asked me if I wanted to join them. Have you ever heard an elf hiss? It’s terrifying. Who needs an Archdemon when you’ve got elves? And their elf dicks. And I thought living in a barracks was bad.”

Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan were in hysterics; even Sten and Shale seemed slightly amused.

“Well, go wake up Oghren, then, if the elf dicks are that terrifying,” suggested Morrigan, wiping away tears.

“Andraste, no! He’s probably fucking a nug. Or worse, Bodahn. I’m going to take Barkspawn for a walk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year's I've learned how to write smut and that's my only real accomplishment during the entirety of 2015!
> 
> I'm pretty sure that position works if you're an elf and do stretches a lot. I personally can't get my wrists anywhere near my ankles while kneeling, and yes I found that out while writing this fic.
> 
> My Surana is a Blood Mage/Spirit Healer/Keeper, is technically Dalish but got stolen by Templars at age 9-ish (his tattoos, received at about the same time and younger than anyone wanted him to have to, essentially mean "please return to sender, hopefully with more mage training"), is pretty self-destructive and only went through with the dark ritual because he got curious about the magical theory, and will probably show up in more works if people ask me to write them.


End file.
